Summary

John enlists Molly’s help to cheer Sherlock up when Sherlock is down in the dumps about getting bad marks before the end of term, which means going home and facing his parents. Molly has the idea of a scavenger hunt to put Sherlock’s big, beautiful brain to use, but nothing goes right when what is supposed to be a private thing amongst a few friends becomes a campus-wide event. Will it all end happily ever after or will everything be worse off than they were before?

Summary

“She mentioned it once,” Sherlock cleared his throat and intoned Mary’s voice and tone of speech, “Aaahhh it’s good to have a doctor for a husband; my feet were killing me yesterday, yah know… he…” Sherlock pointed at John at this, “…gives excellent massages.”

“Don’t start...” John warned, placing the paper back to eye level.

“Look, you have to be there tomorrow, three o'clock sharp, CV in hand…” Sherlock stared at one of the photos, “…Slaney wants a man in his mid-thirties, responsible, well-mannered...”--Or a case in which John gets to be a massage therapist for a case and Sherlock gets to be massaged against his will (not really). Taking liberties with The Adventure of the Dancing Men of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.**Tags will be added as needed :)!

Summary

After the Fall, Greg suffers greatly - but is largely ignored. Greg-centric fic about his (and John's) experience, and how far Greg slips into depression while everyone focuses on John. Starts to become a bit Mystrade near the end (can be ignored), but I will continue the tale in a different story where that develops.

Summary

Danger nights are not the same anymore, because Sherlock has a lifejacket. A lifejacket that tastes like tea, that has the texture of a beige jumper and smells inexplicably like a common brand of shampoo with a hint of cedar. A lifejacket that has the exact color of John’s eyes: deep blue, with a hint of grey on rainy days.

Summary

It started after the FallIt started years agoThey were both dead and yet...

This started as unconnected drabbles, just attempting the 30 Day Sheriarty challenge, and then it turned into a story, with vignettes in the relationship between Jim Moriarty (under whatever name) and William Sherlock Scott Holmes... and somehow Casablanca. The first 4 chapters are short, after that? it takes an abrupt turn into story arcs

Summary

Moriarty's return has only granted Sherlock a temporary reprieve from punishment over his actions regarding Magnussen, and when a mission involving Sebastian Moran crosses Mycroft's desk it seems to be the perfect way for Sherlock to pay his penance. This particular mission requires Sherlock to have a paramour, however, but Mycroft has that taken care of in the form of Molly. What begins as a ruse to fool Moran slowly becomes something more real, though, and as this mission takes Sherlock and Molly across the globe chasing after a ghost he begins to realize that there is much more that he can lose this time if he makes another wrong decision.

Summary

“Merlin!” The call echoed down the corridor of the halls, and two warm, happy bodies were roughly pulled out of their bubble.

“Shit, They’re back.”

Merlin's back from his holiday and so it's time for him to join Harry and Eggsy on their weekly evening out. However, no one smiles at their phone like that texting a friend, so maybe Merlin should bring them along too... if only so that Harry could find out who it is... Not that he was being nosy.

Summary

Sherlock had it coming. How dare the man prioritize his fucking emotionless mask over Mrs. Hudson’s dying comfort? Oh, Sherlock was asking for it alright, and if that was the reason John had stormed out on him he might (almost) run off with a clear conscience. If he hadn’t used that word, at least. But that wasn’t the reason John had said it, and he knows it clear as anything. He hadn’t shouted at Sherlock because Sherlock is a dick, or even because John fears he doesn’t care about anything. Sure, those were the aggravating circumstances, but the core of it, plain and simple, is that John is terrified Sherlock doesn’t care about him.

Well, fuck me if I’m going to leave the man I love to suffer alone because of my fucking insecurities. You’ve got exactly three minutes to fix this, John Watson, and then straight to Mrs. Hudson, no matter what.

Summary

Greg began to notice something odd on the building across from his flat. He first thought it funny and dismissed it as a wasteful Governmental error, but as the bouquet of CCTV cameras multiplied he began to wonder if he was being wooed in a slightly creepy way.